


weather the storm

by lecygne



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but it's extremely vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 18:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecygne/pseuds/lecygne
Summary: Derek banged his way into the empty Haus much like a storm would rattle about at sea, windswept and churning furiously and absolutely no one around to appreciate its force.





	weather the storm

For [NurseyDex Week](https://nurseydexweek.tumblr.com) Day 5: Hurt/Comfort

* * *

Derek banged his way into the empty Haus much like a storm would rattle about at sea, windswept and churning furiously and absolutely no one around to appreciate its force.

That is to say that Haus was gratefully devoid of life. Derek ran through his mental checklist of schedules. Derek wasn’t or nosey, certainly not neurotic,  he just enjoyed soaking up the rare times of quiet the Haus had to offer, the only noise the screams in his head and comforting creaks of old floorboards.

Today was a double edged sword. Derek was angry, definitely, scared, maybe, and overwhelmed most assuredly. He shoved his way through the fridge, unearthing half a strawberry rhubarb pie and escaping up to his room with a fork and a six pack (he’d pay Ollie, or where they Wickies’, back later).

He slammed his door shut for the mere satisfaction of being able to without certain hausmates complaining about ‘structural integrity, god damn Nursey you’ll bring this whole fucking Haus down’ and flung himself into his bed, only his fear of ruining Bitty’s pie keeping it level and unspilled. He threw his comforter over his head to eat and drink in silence, chewing through chunks of sweet fruit like enough gnashing of teeth could erode away the tension in his chest.

20 minutes later and 45 minutes too soon his single serving pity party was crashed. Dex’s class must have let out early, only his feet fall like such thunder on the stairs but Derek’s storm had been partially soothed by confectioneries and the warm buzz of alcohol and he was none too eager to get riled up again. He heard the rattle of the doorknob, felt the shift of the wind as the door flung open. A pause. 

“Uh, Nursey?”

Right, the blanket.

“Yeah?”

“Are you… okay?”

Derek thought about it a moment.

“No.”

The bed shifts and he scrambles to keep his beer and pie in their respective containers, and then Dex is tugging his comfort blanket down to expose his face. Nursey glares, but Dex’s impediment is accompanied with the gentle breeze and slight dampness of the early spring, and he’s not a raging storm but a shower, a sprinkling. Derek finds this thought unhelpful.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Dex’s eyebrows are scrunched up as if he was concerned about Nursey, or rather, concerned that his roommate was losing his already tentative grip on sanity.

“No.”

Dex stays there for a moment, half leaning on the bed, Derek keeping his eyes down at the nearly finished pie tin. They were teetering, as they always were, balanced precociously on the pinhead of friendship, and it was days like these were Derek would be biting and clawing and pushing them head over heels into indignation. He no longer had the wind in his lungs to blow them out to sea, but he wasn’t left settled.

Dex moved off the bed to climb to his bunk, Derek deflated. He wasn’t ready to fight and he was secretly so grateful that Dex didn’t seem to have it in him either. Maybe he’ll just leave Derek to his misery and plug in headphones, maybe escape to the kitchen to do homework, hang out in Chowder’s room, leaving Derek to weather in stormy silence.

Something soft bounced onto the bed next to him.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Hey, don’t be a dick. I’m trying to help.” The tips of Dex’s ears were on fire, but he leaned casually against the frame of the beds, crossing his arms.

Derek pushed his blanket the rest of the way off him, bringing the soft, bead-filled nylon animal up to stare it down, eye to eye. Man to-

“A chicken?” Yes, it was a chicken, soft and flexible. It squished delightfully under Derek’s grip.  The red of Dex’s ears trails down to his cheeks, he ducks his head as if that made it any less obvious. Derek elects not to write an ode to the many reds of Dex’s face and instead brings the chicken up to his face and smooshs it against his check in an effective snuggle. It smells like Dex.

“Don’t disrespect Henifer Aniston, besides,” Dex motions to the pie tin, the half full six pack peeking out from the blankets, “like you could use something, I don’t know, soft?”

Nursey closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths and nudges the pie tin towards Dex, an invitation.

Dex maneuvers himself next to Nursey, taking his spread of comfort foods and placing them out of harm’s way on the side table before settling with his back against the wall, a respectable amount of distance away from Derek. They sat in silence, the wind leaving Derek’s sails with each deep breath filled of nylon and Dex. He wondered wildly if the real thing would bring as much solace.

Dex, for his part, was sitting quietly. He pulled a few gulps from Derek’s half empty Bud Light and was still. Derek wasn’t sure why, couldn’t put his finger on it, but he suddenly needed. 

“Can I hug you?” The words were out of his mouth before Derek had the good sense to think about shutting up.

Dex put the beer back on the nightstand before turning and opening his arms wide. No discerning eyebrows of judgment, no chirps, only the frame of his solid body inviting Derek in.

Derek tumbled forward with the grace that cartoon characters hold when they slip on banana peels, barreling straight into Dex’s embrace and knocking them over. Dex only laughed softly, circles his arms around Derek’s back and adjusts them both until Derek was laying tucked into the warm crook of Dex’s neck, Henifer Aniston cradled gently between them.

Dex wasn’t any kind of rain or sprinkles or storms, he was an anchor, keeping Derek grounded as the last crashing waves of his storm settled into gentle lulls.

Yes, Derek thought, he smells just like a chicken, and it is just as good. Better, even.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://pwney.tumblr.com/).


End file.
